


Don't Call Me 'Dmitri'

by suffocatingrelief



Series: Everything Is New At Some Point [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - High School, Balthazar eventually sucks, Broken Castiel, Child Abuse, Comforting Balthazar, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean, M/M, Mentions of spousal abuse, One-Sided Relationship, Past Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam is a Little Shit, Samifer - Freeform, Sensitive Lucifer, Suicide mention, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9181501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suffocatingrelief/pseuds/suffocatingrelief
Summary: Dmitri Novak, who preferred to be called Castiel, was starting out what would soon prove to seemingly be the worst year of his entire life. Forced to hold himself together while facing what he was, what his father made him, had Castiel at a breaking point. And what better at the edge of a cliff than someone to push you off? That someone in particular being Dean Winchester, Castiel's mental executioner.(Tags will be updated as the story progresses to avoid spoilers.)





	1. It's Castiel, Not Dmitri

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a long-running, serious work. It was inspired by 'Son of a Preacher Man' by Tom Goss. Helpful criticism is always welcome. Please enjoy!
> 
> At the end of each chapter, save for the first, I will leave a song suggestion that I used as a sort of muse for my writing.

     "Dmitri Castiel Novak, get down here now!"  
  
     So the day had begun, just as any other. Every day for Castiel began exactly the same: being ripped from a reoccurring nightmare by his mother's shrill voice echoing through the halls of their unnecessarily large house. Castiel had never quite understood why his parents stayed in such a grand home after all but one of siblings moved out; it wasn't like they needed the space anyways, not anymore. All the kids moved out shortly after they turned eighteen. He immediately changed his train of thought as the subject of his siblings was not one that made him particularly comfortable.  
  
     "I'm coming, dammit!" Castiel yelled back at his mother, keeping his old, worn comforter pulled over his head. He wanted nothing more than to just lay in his bed until the school year had passed. Starting senior year at a new school was bullshit, as he told his parents several times. Though moving around wasn't new to him, Castiel had hoped his parents would at least let him finish out high school before packing up and hauling his ass halfway across the country. As far as he was concerned, San Francisco was the best move to ever happen to him. The people there were much more tolerable and far less judgemental than Castiel could have fathomed. Tolerance and acceptance was an insatiable craving for Castiel.  
  
     "Don't curse at your mother, Dmitri!" His father chimed in, his clipped tone carrying little emotion or concern. Castiel's eyes instantly rolled back in his head. It wasn't that he didn't love his parents, it was that he did not like them, rightfully so, in his opinion. His mother, Naomi Novak, was a typical upper-middle class culdesac mom. Her shrill voice was often slurred due to her infatuation with her best friend, brandy. Sure, she was never mean to Castiel but she was rarely ever affectionate towards him. The natural maternal instinct neglected to take a strong hold in her brain. At the age of five, Castiel knew he would never find motherly love in her and subsequently gave up on trying. His father, Charles Novak, was not much different. The only difference between Naomi and he was that Charles never tried to disguise his cold nature. He was openly unemotional toward Castiel without remorse, only showing affection to Castiel's older brother, Lucifer. Usually father's were expected to be most loving toward their sons, especially their youngest. His father's actions had done more damage than the boy thought possible. And as a devout Catholic priest, Charles was not very accepting of how Castiel led his life and made sure the boy knew it.  
  
     "It's Castiel, Chuck, not Dmitri!" Castiel shouted back. He hated his name but his father insisted on calling him by it. His first name was after his grandfather, a cruel Russian man, and his middle name was after an angel, clearly given to him by his father.  
  
     After several minutes debating whether or not he should just skip his first day, Castiel finally grew tired of his parents calling for him and threw his comforter off of his body, instantly hissing at the cold. No matter the temperature, Castiel would only ever sleep in a pair of grey sweatpants, a tradition that began when his older brother, Gabriel, gave them to him on his sixteenth birthday. That was coincidentally the day Gabriel moved out without telling anyone.  
  
     "Fuck me." Castiel whispered as he got out of bed and ventured to his bathroom. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and instantly felt disgusted. It was not a secret that Castiel had some "self-image issues" but it wasn't just the thought of being ugly that revolted him. What disgusted him was the fact that he looked just like his father and that...well, looking like his father was the worst gene Castiel could carry. In Castiel's mind, if he looked like him, he was bound to end up like him. He had Charles' glassy blue eyes and constantly disheveled black hair. Hell, they even had the same bone structure. In a state of anger, Castiel picked up a bar of soap and smeared it over the mirror until his reflection was no longer visible. When he lifted his arm to reach the top of the mirror, he turned his head to his inner arm and instantly decided that taking a shower was absolutely necessary.  
  
     As he opened the shower curtain, something caught his eye that made his breath stop in his throat. It was a rubber duck. Most people would think him crazy to be taken aback by a rubber duck but Castiel couldn't help but let out a silent sob. It was Gabriel's. He remembered when his brother first got the duck; he was so ecstatic.  
  
_"Cassie, look what Dad got me! He let me pick it out at the store!" Gabriel said to his baby brother. Gabriel was always excited about the smallest things. The seven-year-old could be mistaken for being three._  
  
_"Woah, Gabe! That's awesome! Can I play with it?" Castiel asked his brother innocently. At four years old, Castiel was already awkward and looked to his brother for friendship._  
  
_"Duh! We can take turns with it, Cassie!"_  
  
     Castiel had no clue why his mother had put it in his bathroom when she unpacked the boxes yesterday. She hated the boys' childish toys. He pushed the thought aside and turned the shower on, making the water as hot as his skin could handle. He stripped out of his one article of clothing and jumped in the shower, hoping he could scrub the memory away. After ten minutes of scrubbing, his skin was practically raw and he thought it best to stop. Even after turning off the water, Castiel found himself standing in the shower staring at the duck.  
  
     "Snap out of it, Novak." Castiel whispered to himself as he pulled the curtain back, watching the steam roll through the air in the large bathroom. The boy grabbed a white towel from some ornate rack his mother insisted on purchasing for his bathroom. She said it gave the room "class". Why the hell does a bathroom need "class"? He hated his mother's insistence on things being classy.  
  
     Pushing thoughts of his mother aside, he wrapped the fluffy towel around his waist and exited into his bedroom. He stopped in front of his closet and put his hands on his waist.  
  
     "What the fuck do teenagers in Alabama wear?" Castiel whispered to himself. He had plenty of clothes. He had more than he needed: everything from polo shirts to worn-out band shirts to plaid flannels. To his surprise and satisfaction, it was unusually cold that day for a state in the deep south. Castiel loved the cold. It made him feel comfortable. He decided on a ratty, red plaid flannel and a pair of light wash jeans. Pulling the clothing on, followed by his socks and shoes, Castiel grabbed his overly-stocked backpack off of the floor and headed downstairs.  
  
     Castiel was always prepared for school, even if he wasn't completely prepared for anything else. School was really all he had and he excelled in it, skipping a grade and catching up to his older brother. It was an escape, an escape from his parents and brother. It was the only thing he ever looked forward to. Even though he was entirely pissed about having to spend his senior year at a new school, he was not going to mess up his grades out of anger. He was taught as a child that if you had a good education you could do anything. He liked the idea of that.  
  
     When he finally made it down the staircase and into the kitchen, he instantly regretted getting out of bed. His arrival was met with glares from his parents, their emotions entirely unclear to the boy. His father was the first to voice his opinion, hoping to break the silent stare-off.  
  
     "Dmitri, you are a seventeen-year-old from a nice family. It escapes me why you find pleasure in dressing like a common homeless man. Why won't you dress like a civilized person, like your brother, for once in your life?" His father carried a tone of disappointment in his voice, wrapping around Castiel, attempting to suffocate him. Castiel hated how his father constantly compared him to his brother, Lucifer. To be honest, he wasn't sure of a lot of the love his father had for his brother. However, Castiel stayed silent. He had taken to not responding when his father referred to him as Dmitri in hopes that his father would start calling him by the name he preferred.  
  
     "Young man, your father is speaking to you. Do not be disrespectful!" His mother finally spoke up, her words slurred. Great. She was on another morning-drinking kick.  
  
     "Naomi, you're drunk and you smell like a dive bar. Chuck, how many times do I have to say it? My name is Castiel. I am not going to respond to that backwards-ass name you keep calling me." Castiel asserted, his voice only wavering when he turned to address his father. HIs father couldn't even look him in the eyes. He could never look Castiel in the eyes. His parents were dumbfounded. Usually, Castiel took their verbal torment in silence before storming out of the room, a stream of curse words leaving his mouth and trailing behind him.  
  
     "Dmi-" Castiel cut his father short.  
  
     "Would you look at the time? I'm going to be late. Later, Naomi...Chuck." Castiel said before turning on his heel and making his way to the front door. When he finally made it across the house and out the door, he took a deep breath as he relished the feeling of the cold Alabama air hitting his skin.  
  
     "Might as well get this shitshow over with." Castiel made his way down the sidewalk to what was now his seventeenth new school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Son of a Preacher Man -Tom Goss


	2. Warmth and a Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finally gets to his first day and is greeted with a sense of warmth but reality hits him when his tour guide gives him a "friendly" warning.

     By the time he made it to the school, Castiel was already ten minutes late for his meeting with his guidance counselor about some bullshit orientation. He decided another minute would not make that much of a difference so he spent the minute looking at the school and the huge letters that adorned the roof above the main entrance.

  
_Harvelle High School_

  
     When his quick scan of the building was done, he ascended the concrete stairs and entered the school. It took him but a moment to find the door marked 'Guidance Office' and he went in to talk to the woman with whom he had an appointment.

     "Hey, I'm here to see Ms. Mills." Castiel said to the young secretary, who was most likely just a student aid as her dress, facial expression, and general attitude would suggest.

  
     "Last name?" She asked without looking up from her computer screen.

  
     "Uh...Novak." Castiel was kind of taken aback. He had always assumed that southerners would have...well, 'southern hospitality'. After the sound of her tapping the keyboard had ceased, she looked up at him, making direct eye contact.

     "Dmitri?" She asked with a quizzical look on her face. It almost looked as if she didn't believe that could possible be his name. If that was how she felt, he certainly shared in that feeling.  
    

     "Uh...yeah, technically speaking."

     "You can go back to her office. It's down that hallway. Third door on the left." The woman said as she gestured to a small hallway on the right of her desk. As soon as Castiel thanked her, she turned her attention back to her computer. So much for hospitality. Castiel paid her rudeness no mind and headed for the office door in question. As he turned and entered the door, his senses were met with warmth. It smelled, felt, and looked...warm. He could smell a candle burning and the scent was familiar to him: spice cake. His mother made him one for his tenth birthday, his last birthday celebration. As he looked around, he saw a large, plush couch covered in deep red colored pillows and the windows were adorned with heavy curtains of the same color. On the opposite end of the room, there was a woman sitting in an office chair; she was staring at him with the most genuine smile Castiel had ever seen.

     "Hello, you must be Dmitri. I'm Ms. Mills but you can just call me Jody if you'd like." Her voice was soft and soothing like a blanket fresh out of the dryer.

     "I'm sorry, sweetie. Do you go by a different name?" Her question brought Castiel out of his entranced state of admiration. Unbeknownst to him, he had flinched when she addressed him by his birth name. He did not fret too much over it because his worry was instantly soothed by her follow-up question. No one had ever asked him if he preferred a different name. He had always assumed that no one cared.

  
     "Uh, yeah. The name's Castiel." He said as a small smile appeared on his face.

  
     "Nice to meet you, Castiel. I love that name, by the way. You don't look like a 'Dmitri' anyhow. You can sit on that couch there while we wait for your tour guide."  
    

     "Tour guide?" Castiel was unaware of a tour. Even if he was, he would assume the counselor would be the guide.

     "Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. New students are excused from their first period class to be given a tour of the school and to be shown where their classes are and how to get to them." She assured him that it was just a routine protocol. Castiel didn't exactly get along with others, especially strangers so he was quite nervous about already meeting a new person. He could feel a lump rising in his throat as his nerves began to go haywire.

  _'What if they think I'm weird? What if they are mean? What if they ask me questions? Dear God, please let it be a deaf, mute, blind person.'_

     Castiel's rapid overthinking was interrupted by a knock on the office door followed by a loud greeting.

     "Hey, Jody! Where's my newest catch?" Castiel turned to find the source of the loud outburst and saw a young girl standing in the doorway. She looked so small and frail. Her fiery red hair cascaded onto her shoulders in loose waves and her doe-eyes reminded Castiel of a porcelain doll that his grandfather once brought from Moscow to give to Castiel's older sister, Hannah. Castiel had zoned out as he was staring at the girl and had not realized she had moved closer to him and was now standing right in front of where he was seated on the couch.

     "The name's Bradbury. Charlie Bradbury." She extended her hand out to greet the young man. Her subtle southern drawl was endearing and Castiel had to hold back a small chuckle.

     "Novak. Castiel Novak." He extended his hand and shook hers, careful not to squeeze too hard. He was worried she could feel the sweat on his palms. It was a gross nervous tick he had developed at an early age.

     "Nice to meet ya, buddy! You ready for the best tour of your life?" Her playful demeanor relaxed Castiel, even if just a little bit.

     "Not so fast, Charlie. I haven't even given the boy his schedule yet." Jody spoke up, immediately catching the attention of both students. She turned to her computer screen and clicked her mouse a few times before her printer let out a small whirring sound. When the singular piece of paper came out of the feed, she reached up to grab it and wrote something at the top. With a warm smile, she handed it to Castiel.

     ' ~~Dmitri~~ Castiel Novak.'

     It was a small gesture but it warmed Castiel's heart and put him at ease. Maybe this new school wouldn't be so bad. His nice thoughts of Jody were interrupted by a small hand grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House of the Rising Sun -The Animals


	3. Nothing Was Ever Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is given his tour and has his first encounter with the boy whom will soon become his worst nightmare.
> 
> Fair warning: Castiel's inner monologue consists of the f-word. A lot. Sorry.

     The small, pale hand drug him out into the hallway before Castiel instinctively pulled away from it angrily.

     "Why did you touch me?" The young man spoke softly, trying to avoid getting loud like he wanted to.

     "You mean grabbing your sleeve? Sorry man." Charlie said softly, noticing Castiel's change in mood.

     "Please don't touch me." Castiel was trying to regain his composure. In all honesty, Castiel loathed personal contact. Being touched was one of the very few things Castiel absolutely despised. Even the handshake he had participated in earlier made the boy want to punch a wall in frustration.

     "No problem, dude. Anyways, on with the tour." Charlie said, throwing her hands up in an 'I surrender.' gesture, not questioning Castiel's reaction. Castiel simply nodded and followed her lead. She lead him down a narrow hallway to show him where his locker, which was only about halfway down the corridor. He simply nodded when she pointed at it and continued walking, expecting her to do the same. When he walked right into her body, he realized his assumption was not correct. Instead, she simply stated a warning.

     "Do not, under any circumstances, go to the end of this hallway," Charlie said as she pointed to the end of the small corridor. It was a dead end with a small door that Castiel assumed it was a janitor's closet. "Unless you would, for some reason, enjoy having your ass kicked." The end of her statement grabbed Castiel's attention and caused him to choke on the air he was breathing.

     "What do you mean?"

     "Just trust me, dude. That's Winchester territory. It's not somewhere you want to end up."

     Castiel simply nodded. That was all the warning he needed. He was not exactly one that enjoyed confrontation, especially physical confrontation. When Charlie walked in the opposite direction, he let out a breath he did not even know he was holding in. By the end of the tour, he and Charlie had traded a few jokes and stories. He found himself very much enjoying her company. When the bell for second period rang, he looked at Charlie to say their farewells but she was already gone. He did not let her disappearance affect him. He had often done the same thing to people. He shook his head, letting out a small laugh, and walked to his second-period class, Pre-Calculus Algebra.

     Castiel loved math. That was one of many reasons he thought himself much different than most students. Most students looked forward to lunch or even gym, but Castiel genuinely loved math classes. It was something he understood. It was something he was good at. Upon entering his most anticipated class, he instantly felt a twinge of regret for being so excited. The moment he stepped in the door, every student already in the classroom turned to stare directly at him. Castiel could feel his cheeks grow hot with embarassment. He hated this. He knew exactly why they were staring but he tried to push it out of his mind. He wished he could turn around and run home but he was almost an adult now and had to, according to his father, 'put on his big boy pants and toughen up'.

     He quickly found a vacant seat and rushed to sit down, keeping his eyes pointed at the desk to avoid seeing the students who continued to look at him like he was some sort of freak show attraction. His fingers began to fidget and he couldn't stop his leg from bouncing up and down as he anticipated the teacher's arrival so the class could just begin already. 

     _Fuck. It never fails. Castiel, the freak show to gawk out._

     Castiel's pissy inner monologue was cut short by the sound and sight of a fist slamming down on his desk. He jumped, instantly startled and looked up at the body that the fist was attached to.

     _Fuck._

     The fist in question was attached to a real-life Adonis. Castiel found himself staring at the boy even as he willed himself to look away. His eyes were examining and cataloguing every feature of the other boy's face: his striking eyes that were the color of fresh grass in the spring, his strong cut jawline, and the countless freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheekbones. 

     "Dude, what the fuck? Did you hear anything I just said?" The other boy's voice was unlike anything Castiel had ever heard. It was deep and gravelly, almost primal. It was on the second slam on his desk that Castiel was brought out of his trance and found himself face-to-face with the being he was staring so intently at.

     "I-I'm sorry. I'm-" Castiel began to stutter. The other boy's features had twisted into an angry snarl, his fist still clenched on the desk.

     "I-I-I. Save it. You're in my seat..." The boy mocked his stutter before glancing down at the class schedule that Castiel had left sitting on the desk, "Dmitri." Castiel felt an anger begin to grow in his gut when the boy called him Dmitri. He knew the boy had seen his name on the schedule so he knew for a fact that he saw the name crossed out.

     _Fuck. Not again._

     "Get up, freak. Find a different seat. Or sit on the floor." The boy punctuated his demand by picking up Castiel's backpack and throwing it. In an attempt to avoid any unnecessary physical confrontation, Castiel got up from the seat and walked past the boy to grab his backpack. He could smell the cologne the boy was wearing and the scent filled Castiel's lungs. He had never smelled something quite like it. His admiration of the boy's choice in fragrance was cut short by a shove that sent him to the floor, right next to his backpack. He looked up from the floor, fighting tears, and saw the boy recieving praise and high-fives from his friends. 

     _Nothing was different. It will never be different._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way Down We Go -Kaleo


	4. Introductions and Humiliation Ensue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel seems to have found a few friends but also found himself at the receiving end of humiliation served by the one-and-only sex-on-a-stick, Dean Winchester.

     _Alright, Novak. The day is halfway over. Just make it through lunch and two more classes and you'll be home free._

     For the first time in his life, Castiel regretted going to school. How could one action from one boy make something so special to him seem like the biggest mistake of his life? Castiel couldn't shake what happened. When he looked at the boy from his position on the floor, he felt like he belonged there. He felt like dirt. He could not understand why so many other students praised the boy for his violence. It didn't make sense to Castiel. Then again, not many things made sense to him.

     By the end of his math class, Castiel could still feel daggers in his back from the people staring at him. He had been forced to sit in the only available seat at the very front and center of the classroom. Only once did he dare to look behind him. He didn't make that mistake after he caught his attacker's eye, a mischievous smile already plastered on the boy's face. If looks could kill, Castiel would be six feet under. As soon as the bell rang out, Castiel picked up his belongings and ran from the class as fast as he could manage in a hallway that was filling with obnoxious teenagers. He eventually managed to squeeze through the growing mass and found his way to his locker. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally got the locker. He struggled with the lock at first, mostly due to his state of high anxiety, but was finally able to get it open. He shoved all of his stuff, save his backpack, into the locker and slammed it shut.

     His nerves began to calm as he heard the senior lunch bell ring. However, his state of tranquility only lasted for a moment. He turned his head to the right, looking toward the end of the hallway he had been warned to stay away from and instantly his nerves were shot once again.

     _Green._

     That was all he could see even from halfway down the hall. His staring was cut short by a hand on his shoulder turning him around. He held his breath as he feared for the worst but it was just Charlie, his tour guide and his only "friend" at the school. Despite his earlier apprehension to interact with her, Castiel grew to find her presence calming, at least to some degree.

     "Listen, man, I know you hate being touched but, dude! Don't even look down there. I wasn't kidding when I said it wasn't the place for you. He'll kick your ass, kid." She said, nodding inconspicuously toward the boy standing in front of the unmarked door.  
  
     "Trust me, I know...What's his name?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side in a state of general curiosity.

     "Dude, I told you this morning. That's Winchester territory and that..." Charlie nodded again, "is Dean Winchester. Now come on, man. Let's get to lunch before he decides you somehow pissed him off."

     "I already pissed him off, Charlie."

     "Dude! You've been here for three hours and you already managed to piss him off? What the hell did you, man?"

     "I-I sat in his seat."

     "Come on, buddy. Let's go." Charlie motioned for him to follow her to the cafeteria, careful not to make contact with him. When they finally got to the biggest cafeteria Castiel had ever seen, Charlie led Castiel to the table where her group of friends were sitting. He was hesitant to sit but after some not-so-subtle begging, he finally caved and sat down. Thus ensued the introductions.

     "Castiel, these are my friends, which means they are your friends. There's...

     "Kevin Tran." Kevin was a small boy of Asian descent, though Castiel was unable to determine exactly which nationality the boy fell under. "He's super smart. Like freaky smart."

     "Jo Harvelle." Jo looked like any other young girl. Her hair was a soft blonde which she apparently always kept back in a ponytail. "Yes, like the school name. Stop staring. I called dibs."

     "and Balthazar Roche." Castiel instantly perked up at the boy's name. Finally, he had found another kid with a blatantly religiously influenced name. "He's from far beyond, across the great big pond and is gayer than a rainbow thong."

     _Balthazar Roche._

      "Hello, darling." Balthazar said as he winked at Castiel. His thick accent flowed like freshly harvested honey and he made Castiel blush with two words.

     "Uh, hi. I-I'm Castiel." He could feel his cheeks getting redder and redder as Balthazar stared at his lips.

     "Down, boy! Not every hot boy is up for grabs. Castiel here probably has girls galore." Charlie said as she slapped Balthazar's shoulder. Castiel could tell Charlie was lying to be nice but he still thought he might explode from how bad he was blushing and Balthazar could sense his embarrassment.

     "What's on your mind, blue eyes?" Balthazar knew exactly what he was doing to Castiel.

     "I-well...So, what grade are you guys in?" Castiel desperately wanted to change the subject.

     "We're all seniors. Except for Kevin. He's a junior. My little baby isn't quite grown up yet." Charlie said as she reached over the table to pat Kevin on the top of his head.

     "Watch it, Red. I'm young but I can still take you." Kevin threatened, producing a laugh from everyone, even Castiel. Their laughter was short lived. It was cut short by the sound of the double doors near their table being thrown open, four teenage boys walking through them. Castiel instantly recognized Dean.

     "Oh shit..." Balthazar said under his breath. He turned to Castiel to whisper in his ear, "That's Winchester and his little band of demons."

     "We've met." Castiel whispered in reply, his eyes never leaving Dean's form.

     "And you're still alive to talk about it?"

     "Beginner's luck." Castiel turned and looked into Balthazar's eyes before turning away to blush. Something about Balthazar was so cute and adorable, like a bumblebee. But Dean. Dean was a god among men. He could easily pass as a twenty-year-old.

     "You should probably stop staring, Castiel. Dean doesn't take to kindly to-" Castiel turned back to face Balthazar as he gave Castiel advice but was mortified when he heard a booming yell from behind him.

     "Hey, Dmitri!" Dean's deep, booming voice startled Castiel, causing him to grab hold of Balthazar's shoulder until Dean grabbed his and spun him around. Castiel's face was soon flooded with a deep shade of red, partially from being so close to Dean's face and partially from the embarrassment when Castiel realized that Dean had called him 'Dmitri' in front of everyone.

     "Who's Dmitri?" Kevin asked before quickly realizing that Castiel was the one Dean was talking to. "Oh, never mind." Dean was staring directly into Castiel's eyes. Castiel's were full of fear while Dean's were unreadable.

     "What's wrong with your face, kid?" Dean asked tauntingly, emphasizing every syllable of his question as he pointed angrily at Castiel's face.

     _God damn it. Please, not again._


	5. Forced to Bear the Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean asked Castiel the question that has been on the tip of everyone's tongue and it triggers something within the young man, something that breaks him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short given that it's mostly just a flashback.
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNING: Homophobic language, descriptions of violence/abuse

     "Hey, man. That's really uncalled for." The voice was coming from Balthazar.

     "Shut the hell up, dick-for-brains. I'll get to you in a minute. But first, I would like an answer from my little Russian doll here."

     Castiel tried to swallow the lump in his throat but failed. He knew exactly what Dean was referring to when he inferred about his face. Everyone knew but Dean was the only one to say anything. Castiel had hoped that people would be a little more kind about it. His hopes fell on a deaf god. His similarity to his father was not the only thing he hated to see in the mirror.

_"Dmitri, come down here right this instant."_

_It was Castiel's tenth birthday, the last one he would ever celebrate._

_"Dmitri, would you care to share with me what you told Gabriel you wished for when you blew out your candles?" His father was shouting at him, his anger unhidden._

_"I-I wished...that Raphael would be my...boyfriend..." Castiel replied as he wiped at the steady flow on tears on his pale cheeks. He knew his blatantly homophobic father was angry but he didn't blame Gabriel for telling their father. He blamed himself for even making the stupid wish._

_"Dmitri Castiel Novak, why would you wish for such an abominable thing? Do you wish to go to hell? 'Cause that's where faggots go, son. I won't have my son living a sinful life. Not as long as you're under my roof." His father's voice grew louder and more frightening. Castiel couldn't help but tremble as he continued to cry. He wished he had his mother to comfort him but she wasn't home and, even if she was, she would probably agree with her husband._

_"I-I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean it. I didn't-" Before Castiel could finish his apology, a ceramic plate cracked against his face. His father had thrown it at him from across his office desk in an act of rage. The young boy froze in terror as most of his vision went black and he felt white hot pain, followed by the feeling of blood pouring down his face. He missed the rest of his birthday. He had apparently spent it, along with the next two days, asleep in a hospital._

_"Daddy, where are we?" Castiel asked as he opened his eyes, well, his eye. His other eye, along with the left half of his face was wrapped with gauze and medical tape. His father never answered; he wasn't even there._

_Three days later, the doctor informed Naomi that Castiel's bandages could be removed and when they were, everyone was mortified. Castiel now sported a huge gash from his hair line to his left jaw, crossing right over his eye. His eye. That was the worst part for Castiel. His once endearing blue eye was ruined. His iris had been ripped by a shard from the plate and his pupil now engulfed most of the oceanic blue. That was the day he decided that Dmitri was dead. He was Castiel._

_Castiel bore these marks forever._

     "Earth to dumbass!" Dean yelled as he held Castiel by the collar of his shirt. "I asked you a question but apparently all you're capable of doing is staring at me. You some kind of faggot or something?" Dean's question once again fell on deaf ears. Castiel couldn't hear him over the sound of his own mind.

_Faggot. Wow, that one isn't new._

     "Hey, break it up, Winchester! I thought I told you about picking on freshmen!" A teacher's voice broke through Castiel's blurred mind and, in an instant, Dean was gone. He was paralyzed with fear. He heard the whispers floating through the cafeteria and turned to look to his friends, tears welling up in his, once beautiful, eyes. 

     "I-I, uh, I'm very sorry." That was all Castiel had the willpower to say before fleeing the cafeteria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broken -Lund
> 
> I know it's an emo-ish song but, hey, I'm still an emo at heart.


	6. Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel comes to truly face what his father did to him and makes a decision that could affect everything about himself in a big way.

_I told you, Castiel. Nothing will be different._

     This day couldn't be over soon enough for Castiel. He spent the rest of his lunch period with Balthazar. He could already tell they were going to be good friends. However, the prospect of a true friend he could trust did nothing to distract him from the constant stares and emotional pain he felt through his last two classes of the day. He had to force himself to hold his tears back more than once.

     _At least wait until you're home, cry baby._

     When the bell rung at the end of fourth period, Castiel left his class running and didn't stop until he was home. Luckily, neither of his parents were home. His mother was probably at a neighbor's house getting drunk on overpriced wine and his father...well, he couldn't care less where his father was. He instantly ran up to his room and slammed his door behind him, making sure to lock it. His mother had a habit of 'forgetting' to knock. The second he was behind closed doors, he broke down. The tears instantly fell onto his cheeks in two steady streams. He couldn't see out of one but they both cried just the same. Everything came flooding back to him: his father, his birthday, the 'accident', Dean.

     _Dean. This is his fault. No one else said anything. It was all Dean._

     Castiel's sadness quickly turned into rage. He knew he needed to calm down.

     _A shower. That's what I need._

     He picked his body up off of the floor and walked slowly to his bathroom, completely spent from the overload of emotions. When he finally made it to the bathroom, his rage was instantly resparked. The dumbass housekeeper cleaned the soap off of his mirror and his reflection was clearer than ever. He was disgusted by what he saw.

     _I really am a freak._

     Without hesitation, Castiel reeled his fist back and smashed it right into the mirror, the entire thing shattering, sending shards to the floor. He was instantly snapped back to reality when he felt the white-hot pain radiating through his right hand. He looked down and almost vomited at the sight: shard of glass sticking out between his knuckled and blood covering his whole hand, dripping onto the floor. To his surprise, he used his other hand to pull the shards out, all the while not shedding a single tear. Castiel tossed the glass onto the floor and turned the shower on. He spent the next hour scrubbing the day off of his skin, getting out well after the water turned cold. Wrapping a towel around his small waist, he looked to the mess on the floor and walked away from it.

     _Since the bitch is so keen on cleaning my bathroom..._

     Castiel spent the next few hours in the fetal position underneath his old comforter, sobbing and dry heaving, only stopping when he heard his father enter their home. 

     "Dmitri, are you home?" His father shouted monotonously from the bottom of the staircase.

     "Yeah. I'm upstairs, Dad." Castiel yelled in response, not realizing what he said. He could have sworn he heard his father take a deep breath. For the first time in ten years, Castiel didn't reject his name. For the first time since the 'accident', Castiel called him 'Dad'. His father instantly knew something was wrong and ran up the stairs. This threw Castiel for a loop. His father had never shown any concern for him before. It was...different.

     When his father reached Castiel's bedroom door, he found that it was locked and became even more concerned.

     "Dmitri, please unlock the door." Castiel didn't even hesitate. He got up from his bed and unlocked the door, opening it for his father. He had never seen the man so worried about anything, especially not him. Before his father could say anything, Castiel burst into tears and fell into his father's arms. 

     "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He said between sobs.

     "Dmitri, don't apologize. Just look at me." Castiel complied with no argument. "What is wrong?"

     "I'm a freak, Chuck! I'm not apologizing to you. I'm apologizing to myself for believing you cared for even a second. I hate you, Charles! And for fucks sake, would you stop calling me Dmitri? Hearing that name makes me want to vomit!" Castiel yelled as he ripped himself from his father's embrace, his tears refusing to stop flowing.

     "Dmitri, I care about you. What in the world would make you think I didn't?" His father implored with a look of genuine ignorance on his face.

     "You never even apologized." Castiel whispered before shoving his father out of the room and relocking his door.

     _He never even apologized._

     Castiel dropped back onto his bed, letting his thoughts consume whatever brain function he had left after the day. He couldn't help but feel a phantom pain spreading across his face, swearing that he could feel a hot waterfall of blood gush from his scar. Right after the 'accident', these feelings and phantom pains were unsurprisingly common for the boy but as he grew older, he pushed them to the back of his mind and attempted to lock them away. He had failed. He always failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurricane -Halsey


	7. Think Before You Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds comfort in his new friend and makes a statement he couldn't take back. He needed to start thinking before he spoke.

     That night had been a long, sleepless one for the Novak boy. He spent the entirety of it thrashing on his bed while he screamed at nothing. His father never came to check on him, nor did his mother. They simply ignored the pleas and screams of their son as if they were deaf to his suffering. That was all the married couple ever did. The impending silence from his family was broken promptly at seven in the morning.

     "Dmitri, breakfast is ready." Castiel's mother called out to him, sounding sober for once. Not having the strength or even the mental capacity to care enough to argue, Castiel simply went through his morning routine with little to no thought. Shower, dress, eat, leave. Since yesterday, Castiel felt like a zombie. He was so hurt that even the ability to express the simplest emotion alluded him. Maybe it would be easier this way. His feelings couldn't get hurt if he hadn't any to damage. 

     Upon entering the kitchen for breakfast, Castiel was met with an unlikely encounter. His parents were smiling at him. 

     _What the fuck?_

     "Good morning, son. Sit and have breakfast before you have to leave. Your mother and I would like to speak to you." Charles Novak sounded much different than he had just twelve hours prior. The aging man sounded almost sincere. But Castiel still wasn't buying it. Keeping true to his vow to keep his emotions locked away, Castiel simply looked at his parents and quickly left, his jaw clenched hard enough to where the young man thought his teeth might shatter under the force. 

     "Be back immediately after school, son. We really do need to talk." His father made a final plea with Castiel.

    _Who knew that shitbag was such a good actor?_

     Paying no more mind to the breakfast incident than was necessary, Castiel began his trek to school in physical and mental silence. He was so far buried in his own self-hatred and sadness that even his own mind couldn't muster up any more words to say. He spent the duration of his walk staring straight ahead until he entered the school. Castiel's blank stony stare lived on as he walked to his first class, not making anymore eye contact than he needed with anyone. 

     Castiel didn't get a chance to come to this class, biology, yesterday, on account of the tour he recieved from Charlie Bradbury. Charlie was nice but Castiel knew he couldn't face her after the incident in the cafeteria. He couldn't face any of his friends. The young man simply used the excuse that it would be easier to keep his feeling locked up for...who knows how long...if he didn't form any attachments to classmates. It was just easier that way. 

     By the time he made it to class, Castiel had decided that from now on, he had no feelings, at least not around Dean. Sure, he would maintain politeness with his closer 'friends' but attachments were out of the question. Still, he knew not of how he would react if someone mentioned what had happened. Should he ignore them? Should he defend himself? Should he scream? Castiel decided to let whatever happened in that situation happen; he didn't want to spare any more thought for the Winchester boy than he needed to. Dean Winchester was dead to him.

     The whispers began no sooner than Castiel stepped one foot into the classroom.

     _'I can't believe Dean said that...poor kid...freak deserved it...looks like Frankenstein..."_

     The constant whispering wasn't even the worse part. What was worse than anything was the look of feigned pity. Almost every kid in the room had a look of nominal pity on their face, as if they had all just watched some commercial about abused animals. The sight of it made Castiel sick to his stomach. He hated being treated like a beaten puppy.

     Not wanting to repeat yesterday's mistake, Castiel found a seat in the very back of the room and sat down quickly, avoiding eye contact with his classmates. Through his mind raced thoughts of how fast he could get from his seat to the door if another incident occured. Surely if Dean did it everyone would feel the need to.

     "Hello, Castiel."

     Castiel would know that voice anywhere and his assumptions were confirmed when he turned to his left and saw the boy who sat next to him.  
 Balthazar.

     He found it hard to stick to his promise to be cold and indifferent. Balthazar invoked a sliver of emotion that Castiel found impossible to lock back away. It was as if the English boy sat beside the door with a lock pick kit at the ready.

     "Hello, Balthazar." Castiel was already blushing. He tried to force himself to quickly turn back to looking at the front of the room but to no avail. He had no clue what made this kid next to him so enticing. Perhaps it was his damaged state or perhaps he had finally found a genuinely nice person. After quick, but careful, deliberation, he decided he would give Balthazar a chance. 

     "So, lovely, what's got you down? Of course you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Balthazar's voice carried a hint of sweetness and general concern. It was a nice change of pace from coldness and indifference. 

     "Nothing of import. I just prefer to keep to myself is all." Castiel saw Balthazar lean in closer to him as he talked and he felt a warm on his hand. In the midst of his reply, Balthazar had gripped his hand in his own, not possessively but softly. The heat of a blush returned to Castiel's face. It felt like he was sitting too close to a fireplace, comforting and warm. These endearing thoughts of his reaction to his new friend were halted by a loud bang in front of him.

    _Not again._

     Castiel reluctantly looked away from his friend and saw an unfortunately familiar face in front of him. Dean Winchester. The green-eyed boy was standing beside a desk of front of Castiel's, his book laying on top of it. He must have slammed it down to get Castiel's attention. The look on Dean's  face confused Castiel; it was not quite anger but it was something close. He had seem a similar look earlier in his life on his brother's, Michael, when Gabriel got a new bike for his birthday.

  _Jealousy._

No. Dean Winchester wasn't jealous. He had no reason to be. He hated Castiel. The only emotion he could ever express around the blue-eyed boy was disdain. Castiel spent a moment exploring the boy's expression before he noticed something he had missed during their last face-to-face encounters.

     _Freckles._

     Dean's face was painted with freckles, the highest concentration spreading over his cheekbones and nose. They reminded Castiel of the constellations he saw when he gazed at the stars from his bedroom window. They complemented Dean's jade-colored eyes beautifully. Castiel found himself unable to look away from the Winchester boy's face. How had he not noticed exactly how gorgeous the young man was? Sure he had noticed Dean's standard features that had been deemed handsome: muscles, jawline, bone structure. These traits paled in comparison to what Castiel failed to see before. Dean looked like an angel.

     "What are you staring at, freak?" Dean's expression had changed from jealousy back to his trademark look of disgust. Oh well. At least it lasted for a moment. But the godlike boy's harsh statement brought Castiel back to reality. He had let his emotions take hold for a moment but he was careful to hurriedly push them back behind the door he had built. He searched for a rebuttal but couldn't find one that didn't make him want to cry. Castiel didn't want to give that dick the satisfaction of seeing an emotional reaction so he mustered up the only thing he found himself able to say without crying, something that was cold and sharp, something that he couldn't take back.

     "Drop dead, Winchester."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WILD -Troye Sivan


	8. Actions Have Consequences

     "What the fuck did you just say?" Castiel has only just now realized that those words actually came out of his mouth, that he just told Dean Winchester to drop dead.

    _Fuck, this is gonna hurt._

     Castiel maintained eye contact with Dean as the green-eyed boy reeled his fist back, as if to beat the life out of Castiel. He shut his eyes and tensed up, anticipating the first blow but was met with something else: a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the class. Dean dragged Castiel by his collar, picking his pace up despite the blue-eyed boys struggle to keep up. Their journey ended when Dean pulled the boy into a janitor's closet at the end of the hall. When Castiel realized where he was, he was sent into a panic attack.

     _Winchester territory...don't go back there...having your ass kicked._

_Fuck, he's going to kill me._

     In the midst of his panic, Dean had Castiel pinned to the wall, his forearm crushing the smaller boy's collarbones. His green eyes were full of rage but wouldn'tt look directly at Castiel and he was baring his teeth like he wanted nothing more than to rip the kid's throat out with them. Castiel reached up attempting to grab Dean's shoulder, to plea with him, to beg for mercy but Dean snatched his wrist with the arm that wasn't pinned on his chest. He slammed Castiel's hand against the wall and a sickening cracking sound echoed in the tiny closet.

     "Dean, I-" Castiel stuttered as he searched for breath. He had never been more scared in his life. Nothing compared to what he was feeling right now.

     "Shut the fuck up, Novak!" Dean spat, clearly trying to supress the urge to beat the body at his mercy. His grip on Castiel's tightened and his elbow dug into the boy's collarbone, eliciting a cry of pain from him. Taking that cry as a disobedience to Dean's order, Dean let go of his wrist and landed a blow on the boy's jaw. The second his fist made contact with the smaller boy's jaw, he saw red. He unpinned the blue-eyed boy from the wall and landed two more blows to his face. Castiel's knees buckled from the pain and he went to the floor. Despite his hopes for this to just be over, Dean rolled him onto his back and sat on his stomach. Ten punches to the face later and the boy was out of it. He found the strength to grab Dean's wrist before the fist made it to his face. Dean finally made eye contact with Castiel and the red was gone. All he saw was blue.

     "Dean, please."

     Dean's assault stopped immediately but he had already gone too far, for Castiel was dead to the world. All he felt was the cold concrete floor beneath him and the light touch of lips on his. The weight from his stomach was gone and he was left for dead. Castiel finally found the strength to roll on his side and curled up in the fetal position. He laid there for what felt like days, blood pouring from his face and dry heaving until his pain would be heaved from his insides. He wanted to scream for help, for someone, for anything but when he opened his mouth nothing but blood and coughs came out. Castiel's vision began to go black and he felt his body start to go numb. All the pain he had endured finally let him muster up one single tear, which left his eye and traveled across the bridge of his nose, landing on the floor in front of his face.

     _Please take me, God._

     "Get up, boy!"

     Castiel heard a gruff voice breaking thorugh the darkness, lightly brushing his senses. He felt himself being poked with something and rolled over onto his back, letting out a guttural groan as he felt all of the pain hit him all over again.

     "Just stay right there, boy! I'm gonna go get the nurse." Castiel's vision faded back out and he was swept away by the lull of a deep, unconscious slumber. Too soon, Castiel was being lightly shaken and saw a flashlight being shined into his eyes.

     "Come on, sweety. Wake up." The nurses soft, warm voice was like a fuzzy blanket Castiel wanted to curl up and fall asleep in. Sleep.

     "Wake the hell up, boy!" This gruff voice, accompanied by a more vigorous shake, was not quite as comforting and yanked Castiel back into consciousness. His eyelids fluttered open as he strained to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head.

     "Where am I?" Castiel sat up quickly and was instantaneously disoriented, the room around him spinning at the speed of light.

     "You're in the nurse's office, kid." Castiel focused his eyes on the woman standing in front of him, still shining a flashlight in his eyes.

     "Who are you?" Castiel asked, bringing a hand up to his face and hissing when he made contact with a bloody wound on his forehead.

     "I'm Nurse Mosely. You can call me Missouri if you'd like. Bobby, the janitor over here, found you layin' in the bathroom. H'said you looked like you got a good beatin'. D'ya remember what happened, sweety?" Castiel hesitated for a moment before answering.

_Dean. No. I can't tell on him. He'll find out I ratted and he'll do it again. Besides, he doesn't deserve to get in trouble...What the hell, Novak? He beat the shit out of you and you're treating him like a kicked puppy. Throw his sorry ass under the bus._

     "No, ma'am. I don't remember what happened. I am sorry I can not be of assisstance." Castiel hated himself for lying but something inside him made it impossible to bring himself to tell the truth. Was it fear? Was it the fact that he saw something good in Dean? Who the hell knows?

     "Don't be an idjit, kid. Your lying is worse than my wife's cooking. Spit it out. Who did this t'ya?" Bobby, who was apparently the janitor, saw straight through Castiel's lie and he seemed concerned, maybe even protective. That was new to Castiel and he may have liked the way it felt. Still, something in his mind told him that he couldn't tell the truth.

     "I really don't remember anything. May I go back to class now?" Castiel moved to get off of the examination table but was stopped by Bobby's hand on his shoulder.

     "Son, do you know how long you were out?" Castiel shook his head. He had no idea. "Boy, it's seven in the evening. Ms. Mosley over here said you didn't need an ambulance so she kept you here. Your face is, uh, a little worse for wear but your in tip-top shape. No concussion. And you didn't die." Castiel immediately panicked. He was supposed to go home straight after school today. Pulling out his phone, he was met with what he expected: fourteen missed calls and twenty-three texts, all from his father.

     "Fuck, I have to go. My father is going to be furious." Castiel's face reddened at the thought that he swore in front of the nurse but he still scrambled to leave the room and get home.

     "Woah, kid. You ain't walking home all banged up. I'll give you a ride." Bobby picked Castiel's backpack up off of the floor and slung it over his shoulder, gesturing for the boy to follow him.

     _Worst case scenario: I get kidnapped and die. Wait, would that really be worse than facing Chuck? Shit. I'm so screwed._


	9. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's disobedience is met with a punishment that exceeds the crime but his rescue brings a sliver of relief.

     "Mr. Singer, my house is the next one on the right." Castiel fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he patiently awaited the wrath of his father. He was supposed to be home 5 hours ago, now he was showing up covered in bruises and butterfly stitches. He knew that these would not be the last wounds he would end up with today. 

 

     "You sure you're alright, boy? I still think you should get a doc to look at those big ass cuts." Bobby was concerned and that comforted Castiel. He found himself wishing his father was more like Bobby. Actually, he also felt the desire for his mother to be more like Missouri, warm and kind and caring. Unfortunately, the boy's dreams were put to rest when Bobby parked his truck in front of Castiel's home, a huge, white Victorian-era home. One would think it a bit "over the top" to be only housing four people. 

 

     "Yes, Mr. Singer. Thank you for the ride and thank you for finding me." Castiel felt tears well up in his eyes, not even knowing why his body wanted to cry. Maybe it was the fact that he had to face his father or the fact that he found someone who cared about him, maybe even a little bit. 

 

     "Stop calling me that, ya idjit. I ain't wearing a damn bowtie." Bobby slapped his hand on Castiel's shoulder, careful not to hit the boy too hard, given his condition. 

 

     "Sorry, Mr...Sorry, Bobby. Thanks, though." Castiel got out of Bobby's tuck and shot him a small smile before turning to face his home. Each step he took towards the front door wound his stomach in tighter and tighter knots. All the lights, save for one dim lamp, were off, giving his father the advantage. Castiel's blindness made it exceptionally hard for him to see in areas that were not well-lit. As Castiel moved towards the stairs, he was shoved forward and onto the floor, hitting his head on the bottom step.

 

     "Where in God's good name were you, Dmitri? You blatantly disobey my orders to be home directly after school and then you ignore every one of my attempted communications." Surely his father did not know why Castiel hadn't come home or answered. All of the boy's wounds were masked in the cover of darkness.

 

     "Chuck, please-" His plea was met with a kick to his chest, adding onto the pain of the bruising from Dean's assault.

 

     "I am your father and you will address me as such, you pathetic waste of life. I gave you your life, don't make me go back on my decision." Was his father threatening to kill him?

 

     _Run. You have to get up and run._  


 

     Running was Castiel's only attempt at escaping. He knew his father couldn't catch up to him. Charles Novak was many things but athletic was not one of them. 

 

     "Where were you, son? I bet I can guess."

 

     _Shit._  


 

     "I know you haven't changed your blasphemous ways, Dmitri. I bet you were out fulfilling your sinful pleasures." Charles' accusation was punctuated by a swift kick to Castiel's ribs. The boy heard and felt the crack of his bones against his father's boot. His father then reached down and yanked the boys pants down to his ankles, beating the backs of his legs with the belt he removed from his waist. Castiel luckily found his chance to get away when his father went to kick him again. The boy grabbed ahold of his father's ankle and swept his leg out from under him, Charles' head hit the floor with a revolting cracking noise. Wasting no time to stick around and see if his father was alright, Castiel kicked his pants the rest of the way off and  scrambled up off the floor and bolted towards the front door.

 

     He had no clue where he was going but he had to go somewhere, anywhere. Castiel felt his entire body throb with debilitating pain as his feet move rapidly underneath him. Before he knew it, he found himself behind Harvelle High School. 

 

     _How the hell did I end up here?_  


 

     It didn't matter at that point. Castiel knew he had nowhere else to go. Or did he? He remembered Bobby slipped him his phone number when he dropped him off. Castiel pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number, hoping the gruff, older man would pick up.

 

     "Whoever this is better be dead or giving me a million damn dollars." 

 

     _Thank God._  


 

     "Bobby, it's Castiel."

 

     "Castiel, what the hell's wrong for you to be calling me?"

 

     "Bobby, I need you to get me." Castiel's sobs broke through and he couldn't even explain the situation to the man without choking up and sobbing loudly.

 

     "Alright, boy, just take a deep breath. Where are you?"

 

     "Behind...the...school." Castiel managed to choke out his location before dropping his phone on the ground and proceeding to wrap himself in a ball, crying to himself as the side of his leg scraped against the pavement underneath him. Time seemed to drag on before he felt himself being wrapped up in a leather jacket and scooped up into a pair of arms. The arms set him gently in Bobby's truck. His whole body ached as he pressed against the soft leather of the seat, his only relief coming when the same arms that carried him wrapped around him as Bobby started the truck and started to drive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsteady -X Ambassadors


	10. What's Your Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel awakes in an unfamiliar place and finds a quite familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two notable things:  
> 1\. This is obviously a short chapter but I thought it might be a nice break from all the brokenness.   
> 2\. Next chapter will be a third-person POV of interactions between Sam Winchester and Lucifer Novak. Get excited for fluffy tweens.

     The warmth of sunlight beaming through a nearby window coaxed Castiel out of his trauma-induced slumber. Fluttering his eyes open, panic set in.

 

   _Where am I? This is not my room._  


 

     The young man shot up, blue eyes opened wide in fright. He felt his heart begin to race and felt a panic attack coming on. His breathing sped up and he felt light-headed. Castiel clutched at the mess of blankets around him, looking for purchase. He felt strong arms wrap around him as he continued to border on hyperventilation.  
    

     "It's alright, buddy. Take deep breaths." A low, gravelly voice spoke to him. The sound of the voice dripped in honey and seeped into Castiel's brain, slowing down his racing mind. The arms never left his body and he relaxed himself into the embrace, letting the other person rock him back and forth like a child.  
 

     "Whe-where am I?" Castiel choked out, his voice rough from the all of crying the night before. His breath burned like a lit match as it made it's way up his throat. He looked down at the arms wrapped around him from behind and his breath hitched in his throat. Freckles. Hundreds of freckles were scattered over the big, tan arms like condensed star-filled galaxies. Castiel's body froze and his gaze was fixed to those arms. He knew exactly who those arms belonged to.  
 

     _Dean Winchester._  
 

     "Dmitri, relax. I'm here." Castiel snapped, jumping out of the young man's embrace, finding himself standing in the middle of Dean's bedroom.

 

     "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop calling me that! Don't call me that!" Castiel screamed as he pulled on his own hair, clenching his eyes shut, willing his surroundings to disappear.  
 

     "Okay, okay. What's your name?" Dean grabbed Castiel's hands and pulled them to his own chest, forcing Castiel to stop pulling at his hair. "Tell me your name."  
 

     "Castiel, my name is Castiel. Castiel, Castiel..." The young man repeated his name over and over again, feeling it envelope his brain and beginning to relax.  
 

     "That's a bit of a mouthful. How about 'Cas'? Dean kept Castiel's hand to his chest and leaned forward to press his own forehead against his. Castiel nodded slowly and wiggled his hands free from Dean's grasp only to throw his arms around the taller boy's torso. Dean reciprocated the hug, rubbing small circles between Castiel's shoulder blades.  
 

     "Dean..." Castiel buried his face deep into the other boy's chest. "You hurt me, Dean. Why did you hurt me? What did I do?"  
 

     "Hush, Cas. You didn't do-just-we'll talk later. You need more rest. Let's get you back into bed." Dean moved Castiel back over to his bed, coaxing him to lay down but found himself in quite a predicament when the blue-eyed boy refused to let go of Dean's shirt. Not wanting to upset Castiel any further, Dean simply laid with him, absent mindedly humming as the boy drifted back into a deep sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Around -Russell Elliot


	11. Janitor's Closets Aren't Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two boys trying to hide what they wish they could scream to the heavens.

     "Sam-cake, I know we have to hide and all but...a janitor's closet during lunch? Doesn't seem very romantic." 

     "Luci, you and I both know there's really nowhere else...and stop calling me Sam-cake." Sam swatted Lucifer's hand away from his head, stopping the older boy from petting him.  
 

     "Actually there is." Lucifer grabbed a hold of Sam's hand and pulled him out of the closet, leading him toward the front door toward the school.  
 

    "Luci, where are we going? And we can't exactly hold hands in the hallway, dude. What if Dean sees us?" Sam tried pulling his hand out of Lucifer's but his boyfriend tightened his grip.  
 

     _Boyfriend._  
 

     "Dean ditched, everyone is in class or lunch, and where we're going is a surprise. So shut up, look cute, and follow me." Lucifer scoped out the front door to make sure there were no teachers standing around and pulled Sam out into the warm summer air. He kept his hand on Sam's and pulled the small, shaggy-haired boy to his own car.  
 

     "Luci, we can't just leave. I've never skipped school before." Sam tried pulling away from Lucifer but to no avail. Instead, Lucifer picked the smaller boy up and carried him bridal-style to the passenger side of the car and set him in the seat, buckling him up for safety of course. The self-proclaimed Casanova ran to the other side of the car, got in, and locked the doors before Sam could further protest.  
 

     "Lucifer Sanctus Novak, tell me where we're going or I swear to God, I'll puppy-dog-eye the hell out of you." Sam stuck his bottom lip out, trying to get Lucifer to break his silence.  
 

     "Just trust me, love. And really? You pulled out the middle name? You know how I feel about that." Lucifer gripped the steering wheel, avoiding Sam's gaze. He knew if he looked into those endless seas of hazel he wouldn't be able to resist indulging his plan.  
 

     "Fine." Sam's face dropped and he flopped his head back against the seat. Lucifer smiled in triumph, set his hand on Sam's thigh, and continued driving. The drive lasted for about an hour before Lucifer pulled into a grassy bank, parking just before a steep drop-off.  
 

     "Lucifer, I love you and all but this...location...is a little sketchy. You're not gonna murder me or anything, right?" Sam's inquiry caused Lucifer to quickly remove his hand from Sam's leg and get out of the car, saying nothing in the process. Sam followed his lead and met the tall, tired looking boy at the front of the car. Lucifer sat on the hood and patted the space beside him, inviting Sam to follow suit. Sam accepted the invitation. The boys sat in silence for what seemed like forever before Lucifer finally spoke up.  
 

     "You love me?" His voice, and his body, were practically shaking.  
 

     "Oh. Listen, Luci, I didn't-" Sam's explanation was cut off when Lucifer shifted on the hood and kissed him softly, pulling away after just a few seconds.  
 

     "Shut up, Moose. Lay back and watch the clouds with me." Sam put up no fight and laid back on the hood. He stretched out his hand and found Lucifer's, entangling his fingers with the other young man's. They laid there for hours, neither of them saying a word, just laying and holding hands, enjoying each other's company. When the sun finally began to set, Lucifer's grip on Sam's hand tightened and he brought both hands up to his face, kissing the back of Sam's smaller hand.  
 

     "I love you, too"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're Beautiful -James Blunt


	12. Don't Call Him That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby doesn't take too kindly to finding out Dean and Castiel's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There probably won't be any updates for a couple days. I'll try to update if I can but once I'm back from 'hiatus', I'll have several chapters to post.

     Castiel woke up several hours later, the light of the sunset now shining onto his bruised and swollen face. The light wasn't the only thing he felt on him as he woke up.  
 

     _Another body._  
 

     There was a body behind him in the bed and an arm draped around his stomach. He began to panic before the memory of that morning came back to him.  
 

_This is Bobby's house. This is Dean's room. This is Dean's bed. And this...is Dean's body._  


     The feeling of panic left Castiel's mind and he decided to just go with it. He slowly and softly relaxed into Dean's embrace, finding Dean's snoring oddly comforting. Dean responded to Castiel's relaxed compliance by pulling the boy closer to him and strengthening his grip around him. The feelings that ran through Castiel's mind were conflicting. He was spooning with Dean, a guy who beat the hell out of him and left him for dead but, yet, he felt safe. Castiel finally felt safe.  
 

 _Fuck. I have to pee._  
 

     "Dean...Dean, wake up." There was no way Castiel was escaping Dean's death grip while the boy was still asleep. Dean's only response was a loud grunt and the release of Castiel's body. Castiel slowly crept out of the bed and walked toward the door, turning around to look at Dean, his long, tan limbs spread out on the bed and his soft, freckled face turned toward the ceiling.  
 

     _How can such an asshole be so cute? And why the hell is he being so nice? Shit...still have to pee._  


     Castiel crept out of the bedroom and looked around in the hallway, trying to guess which door would lead to the the bathroom.  
 

     "Last door on the left." Castiel spun around and saw a very gentle woman, a smile on her face and a satin robe draped on her shoulders.  
 

     "Who-who are you?"  
 

     "Ellen Harvelle-Singer. Don't stare too long, though. Bobby is a jealous man."  
 

     _Oh, this is Bobby's wife. Wait, Harvelle? Is this Jo's mom?_  


     "Jo's mom? Bobby's wife?" Castiel's leg bounced as he tried to hold his bladder.  
 

     "Yes, yes, and go pee, son." Castiel obeyed without hesitation and ran to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. On his way out of the bathroom, he stopped to look in the mirror. That was a mistake. His face horrified him: lip split in multiple places, both eyes surrounded by black bruises, and bruises scattered on his face. Castiel hurriedly left the bathroom, running straight into Mrs. Harvelle-Singer.  
 

     "Slow down, Roadrunner. You hungry?" Castiel simply replied with a small nod and followed the woman to the kitchen, feeling protected by the maternal vibe coming off of her in waves.  
 

     "Mrs. Harvelle-Singer, I have a question."  
 

     "Don't call me that, kid. Just 'Ellen' is fine. Whatcha wanna know, sweety?" Ellen gestured for Castiel to sit down at the table and set a plated sandwich in front of him.  
 

     "Why is Dean being nice to me?" Castiel took a bite of the sandwich, careful not to overfill his mouth.  
 

     "What do you mean?"  
 

     "Dean and I-well, we don't exactly have a loving past, per say. He's responsible for about half the bruises I am wearing so well."  
 

     "You mean to tell me that boy has been using you as a punching bag?" Bobby's voice boomed from the kitchen doorway. Castiel spun around, instantly regretting his decision to indulge in telling Ellen the truth.  
 

     "Mr. Si-Bobby, I didn't mean-" Castiel didn't finish his sentence before Bobby turned around and stomped up the stairs, immediately followed by the gruff man stomping back into the kitchen, a half-awake Dean in tow. Bobby flung Dean into a chair and spun it to make the kid look directly at Castiel.  
 

     "Your face-" A loud smack landed on the back of Dean's head delivered by Bobby.  
 

     "Shut up, boy. You care to explain why you been usin' this nice boy as target practice?" Bobby's voice was low and caused the whole room to stand still, even his wife.  
 

     "Bobby, listen, I wasn't trying to hurt him." Dean tried to explain the situation but was repaid with another smack.  
 

     "Bullshit. I don't know what kinda chick-flick jack you been stewin' in but takin' it out on some kid makes you look weak as hell. Now, apologize to...Dmitri, right?... and kiss and make up." Castiel looked at Dean, his ocean blue eyes making Dean's mouth go dry, his body tensed up from hearing Bobby say his name.  
 

     "Don't call him that, Bobby. Cas, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-well, I meant to but it's not what you think. I don't hate you or anything I just-I saw you with that British dick and I just-something snapped. Jealousy maybe. I don't really know. I never meant to actually hurt you. I'm sorry, Cas." A single tear escaped Dean's jade eyes and ran down his cheek. Castiel reached his hand toward Dean and wiped the tear away with his thumb.  
 

     "Dean, can we speak in private please." Castiel asked, pulling his hand away from Dean's face but Dean grabbed his wrist and nodded. He pulled Castiel out of the room and lead the boy back up to his own bedroom. Halfway up the steps, a voice called out to him.  
 

     "Don't do anything we wouldn't do, boys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOOLS -Troye Sivan


	13. You're No Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel stands up for himself but is soon knocked back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to update on my phone so excuse any format discontinuity.

     Once inside Dean's bedroom, Castiel shoved Dean away from him, sending the larger boy across the room into the opposite wall.

     "What the fuck, Cas?" Dean's eyes were wide with disbelief and he winced at the new pain radiating through his back. "I thought we were cool. I mean, you accepted my apology."

     "I did not accept your apology, Dean. I simply asked if we could speak in private. Did you really expect me to fall into your arms like some brainless damsel in distress?" Castiel's voice cracked as he tried to suppress his urge to cry.

     "Well, I thought-"

     Castiel cut Dean off before he could speak further. "That was a rhetorical question, Winchester. Speaking of 'you thought', that's your biggest mistake. What you think isn't always right, Dean. I can't believe you thought a semi-sincere apology was going change anything." Castiel took a large stride towards Dean, his expression hardening and his voice finally leveling out. "You hurt me. You humiliated me in front of the whole senior class. You made fun of me. It's not even that you made fun of me, it's that you made fun of my face, something I had no control over. You think if I could make all this go away I wouldn't jump at the opportunity? Do you have any idea how horrifying that was for me? As if that weren't enough, you blatantly called me a name you were well aware I wasn't fond of. You saw it marked out on that paper but you couldn't pass up the chance to be a dick to me."

     Castiel leaned towards Dean, his face now only inches from the other boy, not caring that Dean was clearly physically superior to him and could fight back if he wished. "Every school I have been to ends up like this. It never fails. I wanted this one to be different but it's not. It's never different. You're no different than him. You're no different than any of them."

     Dean slowly reached out his hand to touch Castiel's face but his wrist was caught and pinned next to his head on the wall. "Don't touch me, Winchester. Don't even come close to me. When you see me at school, keep your distance. I don't ever want to speak with you again." Castiel turned on his heel and stormed out, not even bothering to put his shoes on. Dean wanted to chase him but found himself stuck to the wall, mouth agape and a single tear rolling down his freckled cheek.

     On his way out of the house, Castiel ran into Bobby and Ellen. "Cas, you alright, boy?" Bobby stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the front door.

     "Bobby, let me through. I would like to go home." Castiel strained his face and kept his gaze cold and emotionless, never making eye contact because he knew he would break if he did. To his surprise, Bobby did not protest; he simply nodded and moved out of the way. Castiel opened the heavy front door and left, not able to look back. If he did, he would have seen Dean leaning against his bedroom window with tear-stained cheeks, silently begging Castiel to stay.

     After walking barefoot for what seemed like hours, but was more likely a few minutes, Castiel found himself on his own front lawn. He stood there unable to move, only capable if staring at the house, which now looked much more menacing than he remembered. Castiel knew his father was undoubtedly waiting for him to return and dreaded what would come next as he slowly entered the house. Castiel braced himself for another physical attack but was met with something that hurt much worse.

     On the parlor floor sat a backpack which, much to Castiel's chagrin, contained some of his clothes, a pair of shoes, his cellphone (which most likely fell out of his pocket during his last altercation with his father), and a plain black wallet in which there was a single hundred dollar bill. When Castiel's mind processed what he saw in front of him, he dropped to his knees and hot tears began to roll down his cold face.

     "You need to leave, Dmitri." His father's voice echoed through the hallway, void of pity or sympathy. Chuck wasn't a parent kicking out their kid; he was more like a landlord evicting a tenant. Castiel looked up and saw his father standing clear down the hallway, arms folded against his chest and lips pressed together in a tight, unwavering line.

     "You can't do this. I'm still your son. You can't just kick me out. Where am I supposed to go?" Castiel pleaded with his father through his sobs, struggling to speak through the lump growing in his throat.

     "That money should be enough for you to stay in the motel downtown for two nights. After that, it is not my problem. You wanted away from your family, away from me, and you got what you wanted, Dmitri. Now, you should leave before your mother gets home." Castiel heard his father speaking but he could not will his brain to process a single word. All he could hear in his head was the sound of ceramic shattering on an endless loop. Eventually, Castiel's tears stopped flowing and his mouth went dry. The boy was so far gone in his own mind that he didn't even notice his father carry the backpack out onto the front porch and return to usher him outside.

     Standing on the front porch in the night air, barefoot, cold, and alone, something in Castiel broke. That last string holding him together snapped. This was it for him. He had nothing so he did what he could; he ran. Only bothering to take the cellphone from the backpack, Castiel ran out onto the street, his bare feet producing a steady, smacking noise against the cold pavement beneath him and the moonlight being his only source of light. He kept running until he no longer recognized his surrounding and found hinself standing outside a rundown salvage yard. Knowing he had nothing left to lose, Castiel climbed the fence, found an old beat up car, and climbed inside. The cold, worn out leather was uncomfortable to say the least but it was his only option for the time being so Castiel curled up on the seat and willed himself to fall asleep, silently crying and praying he wouldn't wake up in the morning.


	14. Caring for Those You Care About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds himself all alone and calls on the one person he has left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter to tie you over until I have enough inspiration and will to write a long chapter. Thanks for the support and understanding.
> 
> Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley inspired this chapter, by the way. Hopefully that's a hint as to what comes next.

     When Castiel woke the next morning, his body was more sensitive than he had ever remembered. He could feel every drop of sweat that sat upon his skin and the sticky feel of the leather beneath him. His eyes felt like they had a thin coating of sawdust on them and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. 'Uncomfortable' didn't even begin to describe how Castiel was feeling; 'revolted' and 'disgusted' were much closer to an accurate description. After he managed to gather enough strength to peel himself off of the old, worn leather seat he was curled up on, Castiel's dry eyes were assaulted by a beam of hot sunlight, burning white stars into his vision. He had no clue where he was and the contents of the salvage yard around him provided no clue as to his location. Castiel was completely and utterly lost. Knowing he couldn't call his father or Bobby, Castiel reluctantly searched for the number his new friend, Balthazar, saved in his phone and dialed it.

     After a few seconds of ringing, Balthazar's soothing, charming accent rang through Castiel's ear and relaxed his mind enough for him to speak. "Balthazar?" Castiel croaked through the phone, his voice low and rough like he had been screaming for hours.

     "Castiel? Are you alright, darling?" Balthazar's voice instantly filled with worry and concern and Castiel felt relief that his friend wasn't angry about the early morning wake-up call.

     "No, I'm not. I believe I am lost. I'm not really sure where I am and I don't exactly have anywhere to go. I'm sorry to trouble you-"

     "Don't apologize, love. What can you see around you?"

     "I believe I am in some sort of junk yard or maybe a salvage lot." Castiel's voice wavered as he held back the tears forming in his eyes. He hated crying, especially in front of others.

     "I know exactly where you are. I will be there in ten minutes. Find the front gate and meet me there."

     "I don't think I can, Balthazar. I-I feel too weak. I can't-I'm-I'm so sorry."

     "Stay where you are. I will find you, love."

     Castiel reluctantly hung up and curled back up on the seat, finally letting go and letting his tears to roll across his face and create puddles on the seat beneath him. Castiel was certain, however, that not all of his tears were born of the aching pain he felt in his heart but rather the relief he felt when he realized he had a friend that cared about him after only knowing him for three days. It was a feeling Castiel certainly wasn't used to but he welcomed it nonetheless. Though he had slept for a few hours, he felt a new wave of exhaustion hit him and he allowed it to wash over him as he fell asleep, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

     "Castiel! Castiel, are you out here!" Castiel was pulled from sleep by a voice yelling his name. He knew that voice and a smile crept onto his face when he recognized it. It was Balthazar; he had actually come for him.

     Mustering all the strength he had, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled back, "I'm here, Balthazar! At the back of the lot!" Castiel's voice cracked like he was going through puberty all over again and he started crying once again, the origin of his tears an enigma to him. Before he could think about his emotions anymore, the door to the car was slung open and a pair of arms pulled him out of the car and into the warmest hug he had ever felt. For once, he didn't mind the personal contact. In fact, he welcomed it and it felt like a life line.

     "Balthazar, I'm-you didn't have to-" Castiel struggled to form a sentence as he grabbed onto the back of Balthazar's shirt and held onto it with all he had. Not letting go, Balthazar shushed Castiel and rocked him back and forth in the hug.

     "It's quite alright, Castiel. I did have to. I care about you and you must help the ones you care about. Now, you said you had nowhere to go?" Castiel just nodded, sniffling and creating a wet spot on his friend's shirt with his tears. "Well, you do now. You can come to my place. Can you walk?" Castiel shook his head, hating himself for being so weak. Not saying another word, Balthazar placed one arm behind Castiel's head and another behind his knees, hoisted him up, and carried him bridal-style to his car as Castiel continued to cry into his chest.

     "It's alright, Castiel. I've got you, love. I promise."

 


	15. No One Likes a Suck-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has new feelings and he decides to welcome them without fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a long-ish chapter.
> 
> Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At the Disco was played on loop while I wrote this, btw.

     Waking up had never been so peaceful. For once, he wasn't being violently ripped from a nightmare or pulling himself out of the dregs of a coma-like slumber.

     "Castiel, darling, are you with me?" God, thst voice was warm, soft, and everything that made Castiel feel safe.

     "Balthazar?" Castiel slowly reached out his hand to the honey-haired boy that was looking down upon him. "Where are we? What-" Balthazar grabbed Castiel's hand and squeezed it gently, reaching out his other and softly cupping Castiel's cheek.

     "Don't overexert yourself, Cassie. Yes, it's Balthazar. We're at my home."

     "What? I'm in your house? Why? What are we-"

     "Castiel Novak, you need to calm down. We are at my lovely home because you woke up in a salvage lot covered in dirt, sweat, and God knows what else and you called me, panicking and asking for help. So, I picked you up and drove you here. You passed out before we even got here so I just carried you inside and brought you to my room." Balthazar explained what hapoened as softly and sweetly as he could, trying to avoid making Castiel panic any further.

     "Your bedroom? Where are your parents? We didn't? Oh, God, did we-"

     "No, Castiel. I'm a man of honour. You were asleep. Besides, I would like a little more credit. I'd at least take you to dinner first. As for my parents, well, they're not here because I live alone. I've never been much of a pack animal." Both boys let out a small chuckle and Castiel sat up straight, inhaling deeply and appreciating the scent that was uniquely 'Balthazar'.

     "I am truly sorry, Balthazar. I do not wish to burden you. I can leave if you'd like but I just need some clothes or something. These are the only ones I have and they're a little gross." Castiel's rambling was stopped when Balthazar's hand flew over and covered his mouth.

     "Castiel, shut the hell up. You're not a burden and I definitely would not like it if you left. I would actually prefer is you stayed. Your company is very much welcomed." A warm smile slowly spread across Balthazar's face as he withdrew his hand from Castiel's mouth. "Now, how's supper sound?" Castiel simply nodded in reply and smiled back. As he moved to get out of the bed, Balthazar planted a quick kiss on his cheek and ran out of the room. Castiel instantly froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

     "You're going to miss all the fun if you stay in that bed, Prince Charming!" Balthazar called up to Castiel from the kitchen a few minutes later, the sound of pans smacking together threatening to drown him out.

     "C-coming, Balth!" Castiel jumped out of bed and stood in the middle of his friend's bedroom, still a little shaken up. "Did he just-? Did I like it?" Castiel whispered to himself as he ventured to the kitchen to join his friend. When he got to the kitchen, the view answered his question. Balthazar was standing at the stove wearing a floral-patterned apron, pouring pancake batter into a pan, and swaying his hips to music that wasn't even playing.

     "I think I did."

     "Did what?" Balthazar spun around, a smear of pancake batter on his cheek and a goofy smile on his face. Castiel broke out into the loudest laugh he's ever had in his life, starling himself and Balthazar.

     "Nothing. It's just-nothing. What are we makin'?" Castiel skipped over to the stove, wiping the batter off of Balthazar's face and sucking the batter-covered finger into his mouth. Granted, Castiel never considered himself the flirtatious type but he knew Balthazar was so why not try to beat the boy at his own game?

     "Uh, we're-uh-pan-pancakes." Balthazar stuttered, his eyes widened and staring at Castiel's mouth.

     "We're pancakes? I don't recall much of the past day and a half but I'm sure shapeshifting was not on my list of activities." Castiel's mischievous smile spread across his face and was met with laughter from Balthazar.

     "You know what I meant, you ass. Here, help me pour the batter." Balthazar wrapped his arm arounf Castiel's waist to pull him closer and handed him the bowl of pancake mix. "Go on, pour it." Castiel swallowed dryly and poured it in the pan, his ears ringing with the sound of crackling and popping coming from the pan.

     Looking up at his friend, Castiel wasn't quite sure what to think. He felt something he had only felt once before. He felt safe. For someone who wasn't a fan of being touched, he found himself leaning into Balthazar, inviting him to tighten his grip around Castiel's body. The look on Balthazar's face whole he cooked and hummed to a tune Castiel couldn't quite recognize brought a true smile to Castiel's face and he loved it. He wasn't quite sure how to approach what he felt but he wasn't scared.

     When the pancakes were done, Balthazar carried his and Castiel's plate to the living room and patted the space beside him on the couch, inviting the younger boy to sit next to him. They started eating their breakfast-themed supper in silence until Castiel got the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind since he met his beautiful new friend.

     "Does it not freak you out?" Castiel's heart rate sped up as he prepared for the worst. He didn't reslly think Balthazar would respond negatively but he was ultimately conditioned to expect the absolute worst from those around him.

     "Does what not freak me out?" Balthazar's voice had an air of true innocence for he truly didn't know to what Castiel was referring.

     "This." Castiel said whole dramatically motioning to his own face. He wasn't sure if Balthazar truly didn't know what he was referencing or if the older boy was simply mocking him. Before he could wonder anymore, he felt a hand grab his and stop his motion.

     "Castiel, listen very closely to me. You are exquisite, absolutely fantastic. I knew from the moment I saw those big-blues and innocent blush that you were an angel walking amongst men. A scar and a torn pupil do not change anything. My thoughts of you surprised me, to be quite honest. I'm usually quite a shallow visual person but with you, Christ, I don't know. It's just different. You're so different from me and anyone I've ever known. You have to know that, Castiel." Balthazar's face turned red as he professed his true feelings and his eyes began to water. His emotional break was halted when he felt Castiel's chapped, yet soft, lips crash against his.

     Castiel didn't hesitate. No one had ever praised him let alone that much. Balthazar saw him as an angel when all he saw was a freak. Castiel always wanted his first kiss to he with someone like Balthazar, someone who truly cared, someone who saw past what was on the outside, and he got his wish. When he finally pulled away from his counterpart's face, it took all Castiel had not to laugh. Balthazar's face was the deepest shade of red he had ever seen on a human being, his lips were swollen from the force behind the kiss, and his eyes were glazed over.

     "Shut up, Balthazar. No one likes a suck-up." Castiel laughed once again and set his plate down so he could relax back, into Balthazar's chest 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Pancake batter is actually really delicious.  
> 2\. This chapter is longer to make uo for the last chapter.  
> 3\. Next chapter will be Dean's POV and it will be full of anger and sadness (just a warning).


	16. Well, crap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally tries to get his act together only to have it shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have Lucifer/Sam and big brother Dean walking in on a compromising situation. It'll be a little fluffy, a lot of protective big brother, and Dean figuring out a plan. Get excited, doodles.
> 
> Side note: I really love Autistic!Castiel fics. They are usually well-written, he fits well in that trope, and I find him very relatable.

     Knock. Knock. Knock.  
  
     Dean's hangover, though one could argue that it's not a hangover if you're still drinking, made everything sound harsher and sharper, especially knocking.  
  
     "Dean, get the hell up! A week is long enough to mope and drink around the house! Bobby's really irritated!" Dean's younger brother, Sam yelled at him through the window. His intentions were good and his heart was in the right place but Dean was barely capable of remembering to breathe, let alone get up and go to school.  
  
     "Fuck off, Sammy! 'M not mopin'. 'M just...thinkin'." Dean winced as Sam threw open his bedroom door and stormed in, tired of Dean's excuses.  
  
     "You are moping. You're drunk and gross and your room smells like vomit and a dirty poker table. Everyone, especially Bobby, has had it. He's so mad he won't even talk to Ellen. This isn't just about you anymore, man. You need to go to school. I know this has something to do with Castiel and you don't want to see him at school but you need to put on your big boy panties and suck it up." Dean's eyes widened and his heart dropped to his stomach as he listened to his younger brother. Dean was so upset about hurting Castiel that he had hurt his family in his grieving.  
  
     "I know, Sammy." Dean ducked his head in shame as he cried silently. "I'm sorry."  
  
     "Don't apologize to me, Dean. Apoligize to Bobby...and Castiel." Sam knew he was walking on thin ice when he mentioned Castiel but he didn't care. It needed to be said.  
  
     "I tried with Castiel. I apologized and, the next thing I knew, I was pinned to a wall and basically being told to fuck myself, nice and slow. I tried, Sammy. I really did." Dean's words were spoken between sobs and heavy, fast breathing.  
  
     "That's what second chances are for, man. Tomorrow, you can go to school and pour your heart out. If he accepts your "Prince Charming" act, great, if he doesn't...well, it serves you right for being such a jerk."  
  
     "I'll try. Thanks for being such a bitch, Sammy." Dean called out to his brother as the younger, yet somehow taller, boy left the room.  
  
     "It's "Sam", jerk." Sam called back from somewhere down the hallway. Dean peeled his face off of his sweaty, beer-soaked pillow and threw his body onto his bedroom floor.  
  
     "This is gonna suck and I just know it."  
  
  
               The Next Day  
  
     Dean stumbled on his way to his hallway, Winchester Territory, and groaned as the light pulsed in his eyes. He knew Castiel's locker was in this hallway. He saw him on his first day but then again, he did a lot of things on Castiel's first day.  
  
     Dean had his apology memorized after countless hours of practicing it in front of his mirror and he would never admit it but he even practiced it on Sam. All he needed to do know was find that raven-haired dream and make things right. Dean rounded the corner and felt something take a sledgehammer to the most fragile part of his soul. Castiel...and Balthazar...kissing in front of the lockers. This wasn't even one of that British dick's chaste, European dude kisses. This was full-on tonsil hockey and Castiel was giving it right back to him.  
  
     The two boys broke their kiss and turned to look at Dean, Castiel's eyes forming cerulean-tinted saucers as they widened in fright. Balthazar opened his mouth so say something but Dean didn't stick around long enough to hear it. He ran to his first class as fast as his lean, bowed legs would carry him as he wiped the hot tears from his freckled cheeks. When he got to the classroom, he took a seat in the very back corner of the classroom rather than his usual seat. Castiel never sat back there so he wouldn't have to face him again.  
  
     Queue Castiel's entrance to the classroom, lips swollen and red and hair even more messy than usual. He locked eyes with Dean and the look in his eyes was a mix of fear and apologetic. Out of pure instinct, Dean built back up that wall he so loved to hide behind and dropped all expression from his face and looked away. He couldn't let Castiel see him cry or even be sad. He already hurt the kid enough and he didn't deserve Castiel's pity.  
  
     When the bell rang, Castiel moved from his fixed position near the doorway and took a seat at the side of the classroom opposite Dean. That was just another blow to Dean's heart and a single tear rolled down his cheek before he could recollect himself. Looking around the room, Dean was relieved to see that no one had noticed his and Castiel's awkward staring match and he whispered to himself.  
  
     "Well, crap."


	17. You Got a Last Name, Kid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets Lucifer is less-than-unfortunate circumstances and messes up what was probably his last chance at making things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spacing on this chapter is royally fucked but every time I try to fix it, it gets worse. So, I decided to just leave it alone. On another note, protective Sam is my favorite.
> 
> Side note: I've been listening to When You Love Someone by James TW and Hey Jude (Remastered 2015) by The Beatles constantly for the past few days.

     Dean couldn't take it anymore. Halfway through the teacher's lecture, Dean found himself unable to be near Castiel anymore and ran from the room. He couldn't go home because Bobby would find out but he needed somewhere he could be totally alone and have a chance to collect his thoughts. Luckily, he knew the perfect place: the janitor's closet in Winchester Territory. Personally, Dean hated that name but his friends thought it was cool so he gave up protesting it.

  
      When he finally made it to the closet, something made him halt in front of the door. Moaning, someone was moaning inside the closet. That irritated Dean more than he thought it would. No one but a Winchester had a right to be in there and now some teenagers are using it to skip class and get their rocks off. Hell no.

  
      "Open the damn door!" Dean bellowed at the steel door after realizing it was locked. After a minute or so of shuffling noises and hushed whispers, the door was flung open and- holy shit- that's Sam. Sam stood in the doorway, his lips swollen, hair sticking out in every direction, and his shirt was definitely on backwards. Behind him stood a boy-that Dean knew was a senior-looking equally disheveled.

  
      "Dean, what the hell?" Sam asked, panic evident in hoarse voice. Dean didn't even bother responding but instead moved across the room and ended up pinning the older boy to the wall by his throat. The senior tried wiggling out of Dean's grasp but lacked the strength Dean had.

  
      "Lucifer! Dean, put him down! He didn't do anything wrong!" Sam croaked out as he began to cry.

  
      "Put him down? You honestly expect me to believe in the goodness of a guy named 'Lucifer', Sam? No way." Dean spat out, not taking his eyes off of his prey that gave up fighting moments earlier and was now staring at Sam. "Look at me, bitch!" Dean said harshly and his grip around the boy's neck tightened. Sam rushed over to where the two were up against the wall and pried Dean's hand off of Lucifer. Upon release, Lucifer's knees buckled and Sam held him as they both fell to the floor.

  
      "Dean, what the hell is your problem?" Sam said as he held Lucifer's head to his chest and let him cry into his shirt.

  
      "You're comforting some older guy that took advantage of you? Sam, get the fuck up!" Dean's anger boiled inside him as he watched the interaction between Sam and the honey-haired boy that quietly sobbed in Sam's embrace.

  
      "He didn't take advantage of anyone, Dean. He's my boyfriend, not some predator. I love him, you jerk!" Sam's words hit Dean like a freight train. Love? Sam's too young for love, isn't he?

  
      "Sam, fix your clothes and go to class." Dean tried to calm down as he spoke to his brother.

  
      "Dean, you can't-" Sam pleaded with his brother and Dean knew Sam was scared he would hurt Lucifer again.

  
      "Sammy, that wasn't a request. I'm not going to hurt anyone, but Lucifer and I need to have a chat. Now, fix your shit and go to class before I call Bobby." Sam looked down at Lucifer for a sign of approval and upon receiving a slight nod, darted out of the janitor's closet. Lucifer then stood and Dean and he were left standing in the middle of the room, staring at each other silently.

  
      "Lucifer?

  
      "Yes."

  
      "That's my little brother."

  
      "I am aware."

  
      "You love him?"

  
      "With everything I have, Dean."

  
      "Don't say my name. It sounds wrong coming out of your mouth."

 

     "Sorry."

  
     "You guys are...active?"

  
      "Are you going to punch me when I answer?"

  
      "No."

  
      "Then, yes."

  
      "Are you guys, you know, safe?"

  
      "Always."

  
      "Okay. Alright. I just want to clarify that if you ever hurt him, I will pull your teeth out one by one, cut your fingers off, and then murder you."

 

     "Understandable. I have a little brother. I know how these things go."

  
     "Good, good. And you're not allowed over unless I'm home. Got it?"

  
      "Wouldn't dream of it."

  
      Dean stuck his hand out, watched Lucifer flinch at the movement, and shook the guy's hand.

  
      "You got a last name, kid?"

  
      "Novak."

  
      Holy fuck.

    

     By the end of the school day, Dean was a nervous wreck. He managed to not only fuck things up with Castiel more but he assaulted the one person who he could use to get through to Castiel. The entire day was an utter catastrophe. He waited for Sam at his car, wracking his brain for a way to ask Sam to use Lucifer to get some intel on Castiel and Balthazar. As if an angel had answered his unspoken prayer, Sam walked up to him with a new skip in his step.

     "Heya, Sammy." Dean tried to hide the nervousness in his voice and hoped Sam's good mood would render him unaware of Dean's change in mood.

     "Hey, Dean. Did you know that Castiel and Lucifer are brothers? They're nothing alike. If Lucifer didn't tell me I would have never guessed. Anyways, he told me that they're barely brothers cause Cas lives with his boyfriend, Balthazar, now." Sam rambled on, unaware that Dean was staring at his slack-jawed in a state of shock.

     "Brothers? I figured they were cousins or something. And since when is he "Cas"? And what do you mean he lives with his boyfriend? Like, they live together in a house and stuff? And he's dating Balthazar? Are you sure?" Dean's mouth was dry and he was choking on his own words, unable to believe what he had heard his baby brother tell him.

     "Yes. Since I got tired of saying "Castiel" all the time. They live together at his apartment. Yes, he's dating Balthazar and yes, I'm sure. Geez, Dean. What's with the third-degree? You already psychologically scarred the kid and now you're stalking him? Get a life, dude. Now, can we go home?"

     "I'm not stalking him and I didn't scar him. He looked alright to me when I saw him playing tonsil hockey with his stupid boyfriend." Dean said, defensively, as he and Sam got into his car."

     "Oh! I get it now! You're jealous! You like Cas, don't you? And now that he's got his British babe, you can't help but be angry. Dang, Dean. Well, that explains the week-long bender and the tears I can literally see forming in your eyes right now."

     "Whatever, Sam. 'M not jealous. Cas can get the crumpet clap from whoever he wants. 'T doesn't bother me at all."

     "Wow, just wow. Never thought I'd live to see the day."

     "Shut your cakehole, Sammy."


	18. Dean, please.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change, a piece of pink paper, and seas of cerulean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several things to say so buckle up.
> 
> 1\. I have all the future chapters planned and the last one written. By my plan, after this one, there are 3 chapters left.
> 
> 2\. I'm making this into a series because this story is not finished at a good stopping point and I'm enjoying writing this.
> 
> 3\. Here's an age/grade level and relationship reference.
> 
> Sam: 16/sophomore  
> Dean: 18/senior  
> Lucifer: 18/senior  
> Castiel:17/senior (skipped a grade)
> 
> Sam/Lucifer, Castiel/Balthazar, Charlie/Jo, Bobby/Ellen, Dean/cheap whiskey
> 
> 4\. myshockblankets's comments are one of the biggest reasons I keep writing this fic. So, you're awesome, amigo.
> 
> 5\. The next few chapters will be time jumps but there will be a disclaimer of how much time has passed.
> 
> Enjoy, dudes!

     "Cassie, don't pay him any mind. I hardly doubt he'd try to hurt you anymore. He's already got Mr. Singer on his ass over it." Balthazar tried to soothe his boyfriend with whispered encouragements and featherlight touches to his cheek. Castiel had spent the last two days writing and rewriting a note to give to Dean. In Balthazar's defense, he had no clue what Castiel had actually written. He was under the impression it was just a note of closure but only Castiel knew what lay inside.

     "I know, Balth." Castiel looked at his partner with a soft smile, his go-to smile for everyone. "I'm just nervous, I suppose."

     "What is there to be nervous about? It's basically a truce, an agreement to keep distance. I don't think he would be opposed seeing as he runs away any time he catches sight of you." Balthazar rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands as his frustration grew.

     "I know, I know. Hey, calm down. Don't get angry. You know how my nerves are." Castiel felt bad for lying to Balthazar about the letter but he knew he would never agree with what Castiel had actually written. To be truthful, Balthazar probably would have exploded. He was touchy like that.

     Balthazar had changed from the boy he was when Castiel first met him. He wasn't as patient or as gentle. In all honesty, he was rough and his temper had grown short. Castiel learned to work around it but spending every minute walking through a landmine was taxing and it was getting old.

     "Go on, then. Give it to the ass so we can go home."

    Castiel walked over to where Dean was standing at his own locker and stood silently, waiting for Dean to look in his direction. When it was clear that Dean had no clue he was standing there and that he wasn't diverting his attention any time soon, Castiel cleared his throat to catch his attention. Of course when Dean finally saw Castiel, he attempted to turn on his heels and run away but a soft grip on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

     "Dean, please."

     Dean had heard those words from that mouth before and that memory alone froze him where he stood. He reluctantly looked into Castiel's eyes and was lost. Seas of cerulean threatened to drown him and kindess crashed into him like waves and made Dean's whole body feel weightless. When he was finally pulled back to reality, he felt Castiel place a piece of paper in his hand and with that, the boy was gone. His grip on Dean disappeared and Dean had never felt weaker.

     When he looked down at this hands and what they held, confusion overrode his mind and then it turned to anger. Castiel gave him a pink, folded piece of paper and then just walked away. What the hell? The boy didn't even want an apology or anything. He wasn't trying to beat Dean within an inch of his life. Dean just didn't understand. With that, he shoved the paper into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and went about his business. If Castiel couldn't even say more than two words to him, he wasn't even going to read the damn thing.

     Time passed and Dean still never read it. It lived in the glove compartment of his Baby and taunted him every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a black guitar and named her Kansas. I'm learning to play Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis because I enjoy having my heart shredded.


	19. A Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has developed a choking problem when he's nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Lucifer took Sam's last name.  
> 2\. Sam and Dean refer to Ellen and Bobby as "Mom" and "Dad". Mary died in childbirth with Sam and John died when Dean was 10.  
> 3\. I pulled this chapter out of my ass.

     Over time, three years to be exact, Dean learns to keep his distance. Sure, it’s painstakingly difficult when every bone in your body wants you to run up to someone and kiss them until you can’t breath, but it’s possible. After graduation, it’s a little easier. You don’t have to see them in the hall or class everyday, nor do you have to see them kissing their boyfriend in the hallway like they haven’t seen each other in years. It is however a little bit harder when you have to suck it up to go to your little brother’s wedding, the wedding where he’s marrying the older brother of the person you’ve been avoiding for the past three years.

 

     “Sammy, I know you want me to be your best man and all but-“ Dean had been trying to get out of this for months. He knew Castiel was going to be Lucifer’s best man and standing ten feet away from him would make things a little awkward.

 

     “But nothing, Dean. This is my day. It’s about me, not you, not Cas. He’s Lucifer’s brother and best man and you need to suck it the fuck up. You don’t even have to talk to him.” Sam knew how his brother felt but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Lucifer that Castiel couldn’t be his best man. Castiel may have been kicked out and disowned by their parents but they were still brothers. Dean of all people should know how important brothers are.

 

     “Fine, but I’m not gonna be happy about it.” Dean straightened Sam’s tie and left the dressing room in a huff.

  
     “Yes, you are! It’s your baby brother’s wedding!” Sam called after his brother as Ellen walked in the room.  
 

     “Ready to get this show on the road, sweetie?” Ellen held out her hand, a delicate pearl bracelet dangling from her aching wrist.  
 

     “Never been more ready, Mom.”

 

* * *

* * *

  
     The ceremony was beautiful. It was everything Dean could have wanted for his brother. And he would deny it if ever asked, but Dean even cried during the vows. Surprisingly, he was able to keep it together with Castiel a few feet from him. He was not, however, able to lose the feeling of a ten-pound boulder in his gut. Castiel looked good, he looked perfect. The blue tie he was wearing didn’t even come close to those oceans in his eyes, the ones Dean could never forget.  
 

     Sam, being the little shit that he is, put Dean and Castiel next to each other at the family table at the front of the room. Dinner was an awkward affair to say the least and Dean was fairly certain he had never choked that many times in his life.  
 

     “So, Dean, Sam tells me you own a automotive repair shop.”  
 

     Choke.  
 

     “Uh, yeah. I got up some money from when John died and snagged it. Dad’s co-owner, though.” Dean and Sam had taken to calling Bobby and Ellen "Mom and Dad." It seemed fitting.

     Dean swore up and down that Castiel’s voice somehow had gotten even deeper. The man sounded like he used gravel as mouthwash. An hour passed before Dean choked again.  
 

     “Balthazar and I are no longer together.”  
 

     Choke.  
 

     “Um, well…okay?”  
 

     “I just thought that would be something you might be interested in knowing.”  
 

     “What makes ya think that?”  
 

     “Because you were always very jealous.”  
 

     Choke.  
 

     Choke.  
 

     Choke.  
 

     Dean stood up abruptly and flew out of the room, yelling a quick goodbye at his family and running out to the street to catch a cab. His mind didn’t even register Castiel following him out the door or the deep voice yelling his name as the cab drove away. It did however register every single word on that old, pink paper.


	20. The Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's note to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to hit myself with a brick because I cried while writing this. It's not even emotional. I'm just a crybaby.

Dean Winchester,  
 

     I told myself every day that I would never forgive you, that I could not. Oh, how I was wrong. The memories of the sickening sound of my face cracking against your fists and the feeling of your wrist in my hold haunt me every night. I am also haunted by the memory how your arm draped heavily across my waist as I slept in your bed and the feeling of your lips touching mine on the floor of that janitor’s closet. For the a time I thought the kiss was just a delusion but my mind was changed when I saw that single tear you shed in your kitchen. For the first time, you were something very real and I denied myself the privilege of realizing that at the moment. When I had finally realized it, it was too late. I found myself wrapped in another set of arms and woken by a different voice. It was nice for a while but it wasn’t right.  
 

     As I grappled with reality and my own dream-world, I realized I first had to come to terms with who I was. I was a coward. I was a scared ten-year old boy. I was a freak, an abomination, a burden. I saw what was in the mirror and hated who I was. The sight of my own face made me vomit until I had nothing left to expel. No matter how many sweet words of praise I heard, I never saw myself any differently. I was still just a scared boy with a messed up face and half the sight to see it with. I could never learn to drive and children could not stand to be near me. It was humiliating. At one point, I refused to leave home. Locking myself in constantly was often the cause of many fights in the home I have with Balthazar. He is no longer as nice as he was but he says he is working on it. I don’t believe him.  
 

     My self-hatred continued to eat at me. I saw no hope and no reason to continue fooling myself into thinking that some great end would justify all of my suffering. Life was hell for me and I saw no hope for reaching heaven. That it, until right now. Moments before sitting down to write this letter, something dawned on me, a revelation. You were the bucket of cold water I desperately needed splashed on me to wake me up. You were a beacon of light, a symbol that change is possible. I tried to convince myself that the changes I saw in you were not real but I can no longer deny it. If someone as pigheaded as a Winchester can change, then so can I. I can be the person I truly am underneath the scar tissue and the fear. I am not my exterior and I need someone who sees that as well. I will no longer let anyone take away who I am. I am still Castiel but I will always be Dmitri. No one can take my name, not any more.  
 

     At the end of the day, my accepting your apology is the first step to an apology of my own. I owe you an apology for not seeing who you became, who you really were, buried underneath that bravado and stoic face. You are freckles and eyes of fresh cut grass. You are a strong embrace and the light of a sunrise on flawless tan skin. I wish I had seen all of this sooner but now that I do, I have never seen more clearly in my life. I am truly sorry, Dean Winchester, and I hope that you will one day accept my apology as well.  
                                                                                

                                                                                                                                                                          Love,  
                                                                                                                                                                                 Dmitri Castiel Novak 


	21. Kids Are Smart, Sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter of this installment. This is the first part of a series so there will be more to come. I don't know when exactly but it will come. I'm aiming to post a couple chapters at the beginning of March. Nice comments are always appreciated. See you then!
> 
> Also, I'm trying to find someone to beta for me because editing is a bitch most of the time.

                                                                                                                              Nine Years Later

  
 

     "Michael, next time we get ice cream, please remind me to get extra napkins. Baby's gonna be sticky for weeks." Dean was busy wrestling a very sticky, stubborn five-year-old into the carseat he meticulously installed in the backseat of his Impala.   
 

     "Okie dokie!" Michael was no doubt nearing the peak of his sugar high as he dripped more melting ice cream on himself and Dean. Making a mental note to thoroughly clean everyone and everything later, Dean finished securing the boy and walked around the car to get into the driver's side and drive off. After about 10 minutes, Michael was definitely coming down from his high.  
 

     "Are we home, yet? I hate this stupid seat!" Michael's tantrum began to form and Dean's headache grew in turn.  
 

     "Yeah, buddy. We're almost home. What's with the rush, pal?" Dean put on his playful voice, hoping the tears stayed behind the levee until he could pull into the driveway.  
 

     "I has'ta pee!" The sad-eyed boy's voice grew higher and whinier with every second that passed and Dean knew it wasn't much longer until the screaming started.  
 

     "That's all? You don't gotta wait till we get home, dude?" Michael's puzzled and intrigued expression made Dean bust out in laughter as he pulled the car off into a patch of dirt next to the road. "Alright, time for some good ol' education." Dean pulled Michael out of his carseat and walked him over to the edge of the woods, just a few feet from the car. "Go ahead, Michael. You can pee in the woods. It's basically what trees are for."  
 

     After Michael peed for what Dean thought was record time, Dean hoisted him up on his shoulders and carried him back to the car, setting him down in his seat.  
 

     "My hands are sticky." If there's one thing everyone knows about the little Winchester is that his complaints never stop.  
 

     "Alright, man. Gotta find the wipes. 'M pretty sure they're in here somewhere." Dean rooted through the glove compartment, throwing everything on the seat that wasn't a package of wet wipes.  
 

     "What's that?" Michael asked as he pointed to a piece of folded pink paper that got flung onto the seat. Dean knew exactly what it was but he couldn't really say that out loud.  
 

     "It's a letter from...from a boy." Dean wasn't exactly lying so he felt a little less bad about his response.  
 

     "Really? I got a note from a boy. His name is Adam. He was mean to me at snack time but then he gave me a note to say he was sorry and he asked me if we could play together at recess. I said 'yes' cause he's nice and he has cool toys." Michael loved to tell people about his day, especially if his story what at least somewhat relevant.  
 

     "Is that so? He sounds like a pretty nice kid if he apologized." Dean had a dorky smile on his face. The way Michael's face lit up had a vice grip on his heart strings. He knew that Michael was a sweet kid and sometimes other kids took advantage of that but he made sure to teach the boy about bullies. He couldn't see Michael go through what he had put kids through.  
 

     "Yeah. Is that letter an apo-aplagy?" The boy was pretty smart for his age but some words he just couldn't pronounce and Dean didn't have the heart to correct him, partially because everything sounded so much cuter the way Michael said it.  
 

     "Kind of. You ready?" Dean threw the wet wipe he had used into a plastic bag on the floor and got ready to take off.  
 

     "Yeah." Michael punctuated his agreement with a deep yawn. The rest of the ride was quiet until Dean pulled into the driveway.  
 

     "Can you tell him it's okay? Cause he said sorry?"  
 

     Dean pondered the question. This kid could get him to jump off of a bridge if he asked but all the kid wanted him to do was accept an apology. Well, if that's what the kid wanted, then that's what he is going to get.  
 

     "Sure thing, buddy. Now, let's get you inside. I bet a new toy truck Daddy missed you like crazy and is gonna kill Uncle Dean." Dean got himself and Michael out of the car and walked up the driveway and into the house.  
 

     "Sammy! Luce! I have the kielbasa you ordered!" Dean's shouting was met with pounding footsteps down the hall on the floor above him and the sound of Sam nearly shrieking.  
 

     "Dean, you guys were supposed to be back like half and hour ago!" Sam took his son from Dean's arms and inspected him, looking for signs of damage. "Where the hell were you?"  
 

     "Chill, Momzilla. We went for ice cream which I'm pretty sure bumps me up to #1 Uncle of the Year." Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face as he let himself soak in all his glory.  
 

     "Try picking up a phone next time, MVP." Sam scoffed as he punched his older brother in the arm. "I'm gonna go put him down for a nap. He looks dead on his feet. I'll meet you in the living room."  
 

     Dean barely had time to prop his feet on the coffee table before his moose of a brother walked in, silently scolding him for putting his shoes on the furniture. The room was filled with an awkward silence as Sam gave Dean his best homemaker bitch face.  
 

     "Sammy, can I ask you something?" Dean kept his head tilted towards the tops of his thighs as he tried to hide how badly he was shaking.  
 

     "Uh, sure? What's up?" Sam could read his brother better than the other man knew and he could tell something was wrong.  
 

     "Do you have Cas' address?"  
 

     "Finally!" Sam practically yelled as he quickly scribbled the address on a scrap piece of paper.   
 

     "I-uh, thanks, Sammy. It's just that-"  
 

     "Get your ass out of here, Dean!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can yell at me for deciding to hold some pertinent details since the end. I just though a mini-plot twist would be refreshing.


End file.
